


afraid.

by orphan_account



Series: Pokémon. [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "When I wake up, I'm afraidSomebody else might take my placeWhen I wake up, I'm afraidSomebody else somebody else might end up being me..."- Afraid (The Neighbourhood)
Relationships: Guzma (Pokemon)/Original Character(s), Guzma (Pokemon)/Original Female Character(s), Guzma (Pokemon)/Reader, Guzma (Pokemon)/You
Series: Pokémon. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772278
Kudos: 47





	afraid.

“Guz?”

Nothing.

“Boss.”

Zilch.

_“Guzma!”_

His head snaps up, like a wild Rockruff that’s been startled by a sharp, loud noise.

Only, it wasn’t that at all.

Your voice is absolutely angelic.

“Y’all are stupid… Why the fuck did you come here?”

Guzma grits out through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

The one thing - one thing - he asked you to do was not follow him.

And obviously - that wasn’t going to happen.

“Did you seriously think I’d leave you to rot in this hell?”

Guzma bites down on his tongue, hard enough that blood pools into his mouth because, ‘Yes, you should have.’

His face must be a dead giveaway to what he’s thinking, seeing as how your breath stalls in your chest and your eyes glisten in this dreary hell.

You are the only light in this dimension.

You are the only light in the universe.

You are the only light in Guzma’s life.

“You don’t get it… This place… These things… They fuck with your head. I’m the Big Bad Guzma and I… I’m fucking terrified.”

The last three words are choked out, a hoarse whisper mangled by repulsion and fear, two emotions tearing him up inside, have him bunching fistfuls of his hair to experience anything physical, be it dull pain or excruciating agony.

Just not the horrific images the monsters brand into his skull, sear inside his head, burn behind his eyelids.

Slender fingers thread through his before he gets a chance to try and yank his hair out from the root. His eyes shoot open, the warmth from the elegant digits earning a gasp from his ragged throat, scraped raw from all of the screaming.

“You promised you wouldn’t do this anymore,” you explain softly, cradling his wrists to your chest in one hand, tenderly combing through his hair, massaging his skull, with the opposite.

“… I ain’t good with promises,” Guzma mutters, boring holes in the ground beneath his sneakers.

“Liar.”

His head snaps up sharply, his mouth opening for a retort he doesn’t have, but when you brush his white bangs back and drop a kiss to his temple, he can’t breathe.

No, it isn’t that.

He doesn’t want to breathe, to shatter this beautiful illusion, to find that this is one of the thousands of nightmares these Ultra Beasts play in his head like a broken record player, to watch as they break, burn, freeze, electrocute, torture you, to have a front-seat to the horror because he’s the person doing it to you, to sob when tears slide down your cheeks, to wail when you go limp in his arms, your final words shattering him into pieces.

_‘I love you.’_

“Sweetheart… What did they do to you?”

Guzma shakes his head, breathing too fast for his lungs to keep up with, cradling your hand between his trembling ones, fighting the urge to squeeze it to see if it’s fake or to hold it and never let go if it’s real.

If you’re real.

•

With Lusamine knocked out cold, Lillie dissolving into tears because she may have made regrettable decisions, but that didn’t stop the child from worrying about her mother’s life.

The moment that the last Ultra Beast crumbles to the ground and disintegrates into a pile of ash, you and Lycanroc are barely standing.

You rush over to his side, emptying your bag out, thanking any and everyone for the spare potions in the pockets.

You run your fingers through his pearl and crimson fur, sighing in relief when his wounds slowly but surely mending.

“You did fantastic, Rocko… Time for a good rest. I’ll get you to The Pokémon Center and they’ll fix you up - nice and proper.”

Rocko barks in acquiesce - not as strong or loud as usual, but with the snarls and howls that he used against those Ultra Beasts, you assume he’s lost his voice.

With the click of a mechanism, Rocko returns to his Pokéball.

You stare down at the ball in your hand, breathing out a sigh of relief that the damage isn’t too severe, that a visit to the P.C. will have him good as new.

You tuck his Pokéball back into your bag, and that’s when the reality of the situation truly kicks in.

You crumble to the ground, scraping your hands and knees, breathing like there isn’t enough oxygen in the air.

It’s over. The monsters, the dimensions, the universes… Everything’s back to normal.

Whatever normal is, anyway.

Lillie’s able to sling Lusamine’s arm over her shoulder, half-dragging and half-carrying the unconscious psychopath to a portal you’re assuming is the way back to the real world.

You’d rush over to help - Lillie’s only 14-years-old, after all, but she has Sun and Moon by her side, lifting Lusamine off the ground, Lillie brushing back blonde locks - but you can’t.

The one and only thing on your mind is Guzma.

Every muscle and joint screeches in agony as you turn to see where he is - you’ve encountered Wild Pokémon that attack people without a second thought, have quite a number of scars to brandish the memories, but these Ultra Beasts are truly beasts - you find that he’s no longer perched along the boulders, but right behind you.

Which is exquisite timing on his part, because gravity decides to remind you of its force and crushes the weight of the world down your shoulders - challenging The Elite Four and Champion back in Hoenn and Sinnoh respectively hadn’t been a fraction as taxing as this - and you would’ve face-planted into the cold, unforgiving ground had his arms not shot out and latched around your waist, tucking you against his chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Hi,” you offer breathlessly, a smile tweaking the corners of your mouth, despite the pain and exhaustion leaking into your bones, muscles, marrow.

“… Idiot.”

Guzma can’t look you in the eye, but his trembling arms around you say more than any words or glances.

“Takes one to know one.”

A strange noise cracks his lips apart - something between a chuckle and a sob - that has you tangling one hand in his white, fluffy hair and the opposite tenderly cupping a bruised cheek, nudging your foreheads together so that you’re peering into his haunted, relieved, desolate eyes.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand, huh?”

Guzma chokes back a cry, but traitorous tears slip down his face.

“I don’t.. I d-don’t… I don’t deserve you.”

You brush the tears away with your fingers, kissing the salty tracks trailing down his cheeks, murmuring words of comfort in his ears.

“I beg to differ. Even if you think that, I don’t. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

This time, his laugh is heart-wrenching but authentic - simultaneously heart-breaking and heart-warming - and this fills you with a strength you’ve never experienced.

What is this feeling…?

Is this what you think it is…?

Why is your heart thrashing against your rib-cage when his obsidian eyes find and hold yours, when his grasp around you tightens to the point where a few vertebrae have cracked, when he’s studying your face like a devout man would the eldest of scriptures.

The answer comes to you delicately, thoroughly, and passionately.

Guzma’s lips crashing against yours is like dipping into The Fountain of Youth - rejuvenating, revitalizing, exhilarating.

The only reason you part is because Solgaleo roars, has the both of you jumping out of your skin, but the majestic Legendary Pokémon isn’t angry - he’s warning you that the portal to your dimension is closing.

Taking one last glance at each other, you smile sheepishly and Guzma looks off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck in a signature move that means he doesn’t know where to go from here.

That isn’t a problem.

You lace your fingers together, and begin walking (limping) to the glowing light.

“Y’know, I could r e a l l y go for a malasada right now. Or two. Or three. Ooh, and a hot cup of Tapu Cocoa.”

Without any warning, Guzma’s fingers slide out of yours and, before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, you go from vertical to horizontal (with an unbelievably embarrassing yelp, it was out of the blue, you’ve had enough surprises for the day, thank you) when he squats down to hook an arm under your thighs and coils his opposite arm around the small of your back.

Carrying you bridal style.

“Guz…? You know I’m not terminal, right?” You joke, your arms instinctively finding purchase around his shoulders, though your attempt at lightening the mood falls flat when the erratic beating of his heart rumbles against your ear.

You open your mouth to ask him if he’s okay, if he’s hurt, if he’s experiencing any strange symptoms, any aches or pains, anything out of the ordinary.

But when his tears plunge off his jaw and land on your cheeks, your mouth shuts and your heart breaks.

“… I ain’t good with words… Fuck, I ain’t even a good person, but you… You treat me like I am. I thought I was going to die in this shithole—“ he mumbles, walking to the portal with you, safe and secure in his arms for the first time in weeks, “— and I would’ve deserved it.”

Your jaw hits the gravel, staring up at him as if he said that the sky is green and the grass is blue - but he kisses the corner of your mouth, a lingering peck that you melt into, cradling his cheek in your hand.

Solgaleo patiently waits, his tail swishing back and forth in a flourish of, _“Quit fucking around and let’s get back to your fucking dimension.”_

The only feasible reason that Solgaleo isn’t shredding him to pieces and maiming him beyond the point of recognition is because of you - the hero in his arms, the savior of the islands, the guardian angel that keeps him afloat…

“You’ve saved me so many times… You’ve sacrificed so much just by standing by my side… You’re the only reason…”

Guzma inhales a shaky breath, lungs rattling with a confession that he’s been dying to get off his chest for weeks, but he was too much of a coward to say as much as a word.

“You’re the only good thing in my life.”

He refuses to let another single minute go by without you knowing—

“I love you… _I love you so much, (Y/N).”_

Of all the reactions Guzma expects, this one throws him for a complete loop - because there isn’t a grain of hesitation when you tighten your grip around him and leave a trail of kisses from the base of his throat, the sharp line of his jaw, the sensitive skin of his earlobe…

“Dumbass… I was supposed to confess first,” you murmur, out of breath from the fight earlier, fisting the collar of his hoodie to slot your lips together perfectly.

He tastes like spearmint, iron and candy.

It’s the taste you’ve been addicted to since he first kissed you all those months ago.

“Come on,” you inch away from his plush lips, only for him to try and reel you back in.

“Guz, I’d love to spend the rest of my life with you, but not in this purgatory. Let’s go home.”

Your hands cup his cheeks sweetly, kissing each and every inch of skin, your chest aching at the delicious tastes erupting your palate.

You’ve saved Guzma for times than he can count.

Soon, he’ll be disbanding Team Skull and he can focus on the one person that’s made his life worth living.

Guzma nods, only a handful of meters away from the portal, but right before it evaporates behind the both of you (with Solgaleo leading the pack of three), Guzma kisses your temple with a tenderness that leaves your knees weak and your heart beating in your throat.

**_“Yeah… Let’s go home, baby.”_ **


End file.
